


Good Lady/Transition 2

by robertstanion



Series: 35mm: A Songfic Oneshot Exhibition [3]
Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: Enemies to Lovers to Enemies, F/M, Graphic Description of Murder, Graphic Description of wound, M/M, Nobody Lives/Everyone Dies, Songfic, Symbolism, and hes not even a man, father/son relationship, just a little bit of murder, preportal Hollowilbur, slightly adjusted lyrics, song: Good Lady - 35mm: A Musical Exhibition, song: Transition 2 - 35mm: A Musical Exhibition, tickle me wiggly speaks uwu, we all know the only man wilbur fucked was wiggly, wilbur cross has a god complex, wilbur cross is a scorpio and it shows, wilbur cross: evil bastard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:28:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29704752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robertstanion/pseuds/robertstanion
Summary: A raving lunatic who just flung himself out of a portal isn’t exactly the most impressed when he sees the woman he loved in the arms of another man. Someone kinder, someone nicer…but she wasn’t supposed to realise that he no longer had rose-coloured glasses on and he knew the truth. He knew all.Or Wilbur cross throws himself out of the portal in the middle of 2019 and commits a little bit of murder you know, as you do.
Relationships: Miss Holloway/Douglas "Duke" Keane, Wilbur Cross/Miss Holloway, Xander Lee/John McNamara
Series: 35mm: A Songfic Oneshot Exhibition [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055153
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Good Lady/Transition 2

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warnings:
> 
> murder  
> shooting  
> knives  
> descriptions of murder  
> i'd say enjoy but that's a bit far

Thought proven correct, Wilbur Cross stood at the entrance of the black-framed portal. Behind him stood two of the finest agents he could gather to help him with his mission, Brigadier John McNamara, and the new private, Xander Lee. He’d equipped Xander to the mission to begin with, knowing he’d be a good man with a good mind and, much to Wilbur’s argumentative state, his mentee and son, John, signed himself on. The reason Wilbur didn’t want him there was in case something did go wrong. He was sure nothing would…but just in case…

He ran a hand through his hair again, arms stuck to his sides as agents worked around him in an attempt to prepare him for the mission. He heard Xander’s voice hearing the other agents to clear the room, and so they did. Left in the room were four agents. He was struggling to look at the fourth, as a matter of fact. She was his world, and, considering he may not come out that portal alive let alone at all, he struggled to acknowledge the fact he was letting her go.

She was one of the finest colonels that worked at PEIP. Miss Holly-Aloisa _‘Holly means domestic happiness with Aloisa meaning renowned warrior’_ Holloway, mainly going by ‘Miss Holloway.’ She gained the nickname when their general picked up on her sarcasm, and, in a quip, accidentally gave her higher standards than the rest of the team. He and her were two of the first to be picked for PEIP when it started back in 1979, starting work after the general got everything under control in 1982. By whatever god may be out there, he accepted the fact she was the best agent in the precinct, not him.

He turned to her. He watched the green of her eyes flutter shut. He looked back to the fabric that was separating earth from The Black and White, back to his girlfriend. He stepped off the plate, walking over to where she was sat, crouching down beside her. She laughed quietly, though he didn’t. “Will…”

“Holly,” he started quietly. “I need ya to do me a favour, okay?” Her silence was his answer. “If I don’t come out of there in the 30-minute mark, okay, you train my son for me. I know I’m one hell of an agent, but I ain’t a witch. I know, that if anythin’s to happen to me, you’re gonna be the person to get him to the General position.”

“I can do that…” She nodded firmly, running a hand through her auburn hair. “Wilbur…whatever would Icacks say?”

“About me goin’ in the portal?” Wilbur quirked an eyebrow, resisting a smile. “That I was a foolish dick and should be thinking twice about the consequences.” That made her smile. Thank god, he didn’t want to see her cry. “He’d put John under ya reign, but somethin’ killed him, somethin’ bigger than what we predicted. If I can figure out what it is…”

“I know. You don’t need to tell me twice.”

Wilbur nodded, exhaling sharply. He stayed crouching, stiller than he’d ever been in his life. He no longer needed to show off to impress, no longer needing to flaunt his skills. He had a family. He hoped, though, that he’d be forgiven. He stood and, in spite of the moment, removed his denim jacket, wrapping it around Holloway’s shoulders. He bent down again, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I love ya, okay? Never fuckin’ forget that, Holly. I love ya.”

“I love you too, Wilbur…” She slipped her arms into the sleeves, her eyes twinkling a soft silver, the jacket now no longer oversized but fitting her perfectly. She popped the collar, looking at him. “Go before I regret my decision and throw myself in there.”

That got Wilbur chuckling softly. He stepped back up to the metal plate, facing the glass screen that John and Xander were stood behind. From their stance, he could see Xander’s arm wrapped around John, holding him close, protectively. Good. At least John had happiness if he would no longer return. He smiled up at his son, the pride and joy of his life, saluting firmly to him, before walking backwards, allowing the darkness to take him.

He felt an odd tingling as he went through the barrier. He felt as if he were moving in slow motion, though he knew for fact that he wasn’t. He kept calm, rolling up the sleeves on his white work-shirt, unbuttoned to reveal his dog tags. When the tingling sensation stopped, he opened his eyes, tucking his shirt back into his jeans, sighing to himself. “Jesus…”

“Nah, not quite.”

The voice took Wilbur by surprise. He jumped, turning around, and in front of him were a set of five different people sitting at a table. The one on the left wore a glimmering blue blazer, a white button up shirt with a slight collar with dress pants on, his hair short, brown and soft. Beside him was a man dressed in some sort of ragged mascot, stitched together with various patches of purple, magenta and pink. The stomach of the figure was a wild magenta with the main body being a dark purple. He had bright purple eyes that lit up his dark skin, and, on the table in front of them, was a helmet that produced a bright yellow eyeball that blinked in sync with it’s owner. On the right was a figure who wore a pink leather jacket, golden shoes and white jeans. They had thick blonde hair and a wide smile. Beside them on their left was a man with pale skin and teal eyes, brown rams’ horns protruding from his temples. He wore an iridescent yellow suit that shifted to black as he moved, a white dress shirt and a ruffled collar. He had lighter blonde hair, golden, even, that sat in a long braid tied with a black bow. In the centre of the table was a man who looked too much like Wilbur himself for comfort.

“For fucks sake. Can we have _someone_ else to play with! Why does it always have to be Americans, man! American’s fucking _suck!”_ The man dressed in purple exclaimed, turning to the man in the middle, who held a hand up to silence him.

“Blinky, this _isn’t_ about you!” The man with the goat horns hissed, causing the others to laugh and the purple guy, Blinky, to cross his arms, frustrated. “You got to play with the general last time! You just ended up murdering him!”

“But what a fighter he was!” The man in blue sung, their voice in complete tune, setting Wilbur on edge.

“You…what did you do with Gareth?” He asked, his voice laughed, and a screeching laugh came from the man in the middle.

“God, he’s _dumb!_ And this is the smartest person that runs PEIP, ya said?” The man with goat horns asked, turning to the man in the middle as well.

“Oh, for fucks sake, you guys awe just as stupid as Gaweth was!” He cleared his throat, standing up. “Well, who’s bwood do you think you’we standing in?”

Wilbur looked down to the floor, and from the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of his General, mutated and dead, blood continuing to flow from a hole where his eye should be. Wilbur blinked, clasping a hand to his mouth, gasping harshly. His eyes opened, and the green figure stood before him. “Who are you!”

“I thought The Bwack and White told you when you intwuded. It did with Gaweth, aftew all.” He smiled and gestured back to his brothers starting at the left. “Pokotho, Bwiklotep, T’Noy Kawaxis, Nibblenephim and me, Wiggog Y’Wrath. Or, Pokey, Bwinky, Tinky, Nibbwy who killed our favouwite genewal, and Wiggly. Tickle-Me Wiggly.”

“He pronounces his own name right, the uwu motherfucker. I’m gonna fuckin’ get him speech lessons.” Blinky rested his head on his helmet, the eye continuing to blink oddly. “I hate everything.”

“What do you want from me…Wiggly…?” Wilbur questioned, taking a step back, only for the creature to blink, black shards appearing in the whites of his eyes.

“You.”

Before Wilbur had a chance to react, Wiggly had pounced on Wilbur, a sensation like a tentacle stuck to his temple occurred. And no matter how hard he thrashed and kicked, the laughter around him wormed its way into his brain. Something happened, from then on out. He felt something awaken in him. Everything he’d ever wanted to know and everything he didn’t was suddenly answered…but holding the secrets to the universe was a huge responsibility, and for someone as simple as Wilbur, it wasn’t a task he could achieve.

His lips bared into a snarl, his blue eyes flashing green, the pupil becoming nothing more than a dot. His hair grew longer, originally black gained a red tint to it, sucking up the blood that continuously flowed from the corpse of the general that rested in nothing but memories. Wiggly helped him stand, a denim waistcoat replacing the white work shirt, the glass on his watch smashing indefinitely. Wiggly looked to the walls, only letting go when he saw blood begin to drip down them. He laughed again, a cackle he couldn’t resist, letting go of Wilbur.

“Now go, my puppet. We’ll be waiting…” Before Wilbur had the chance to leave, a black-bladed dagger with red vines growing around it was placed into his palm. Wiggly watched as his host smirked.

Wilbur pushed the God away from him, processing the information he had since learned, and he started his journey back to PEIP. He strode and he strode, unaware of the time passing. Time meant nothing to him now, it never would again. He didn’t need to fight for anything anymore when he knew the definition to everything, the ending of the world and how it would occur, what death was. _This_ was death. Had he found himself caring? Not quite. He didn’t realise how long he’d been walking for until he saw the portal frame ahead of him. Stronger than he’d been before, he gripped the barrier, pushing himself through, his teeth pointed, determined, foam collecting in his mouth. He collapsed to the ground, looking to around him.

And what was once rose-tinted became nothing but watercolour envy.

* * *

13 years without a sign of returning. In those 13 years, John had become the General, taking PEIP under his wing, and then Holloway had retired to pursue what she needed to do. However, a few days ago, he found that the portal was back in action. With no hesitation, he’d rung Miss Holloway. She’d know what to do if anything went wrong. They needed her back.

He alerted his husband, because what kind of fool would he be if he kept a life-threatening secret to himself, and when he saw John’s face pale, he knew it wasn’t good. “Honey?”

“Close the border,” John told him immediately, standing restlessly. “That’s an order, Xander, okay? I want that border closed.”

Unlike everyone else, as soon as his father went into that portal, he had known he wasn’t coming back out. He gave up hope. He hadn’t cared. When his father became involved with the mission to finally play hero, he became distant. He couldn’t stay optimistic. The Black and White had torn his older cousin to pieces, so why should he have faith that his father wouldn’t meet the same fate? And so, in 13 years, he matured and moved on. He got married, he became lustful, he put his emotions in a box. The last time he cried was the night of 13 years ago, February 2005. He’d have been 22 that May. He was still a kid.

“What’s going on?” Xander asked, standing to face his husband, pulling his collar back down. Temporarily, he turned his back, keeping his eyes on him, concerned entirely for John’s welfare, but when his eyes widened and he heard what sounded like Styrofoam being pierced, he turned around, and, standing up still, was Colonel Wilbur Cross.

“Go and get Holloway. She’ll be with Douglas Keane.”

“What about you?” Xander asked. Instead of a reply, he got a cold stare in front of the glass directly at his late father. Xander got the idea, running out of the room, leaving John alone.

Some mistake that was.

* * *

Stumbling out of the portal, Wilbur found himself reaching to place his hand on the wall, but the black blade went straight through it. He gripped the handle, laughing, tilting his head back, gritting his teeth as the names of his new friendy-wends pulsed through his mind. _“Pokotho, Bliklotep, T’Noy Karaxis, Nibblenephim, Wiggog Y’Wrath.”_ He licked his lips hungrily, looking around the room.

The portal room. The walls and floor, as white and clean as ever. The set of chairs that had been there when he’d first gone in, they stayed in the exact same spot. He looked up, the panel of glass dirtied, oldened, and, behind it, stood a man, muscular with chiselled cheekbones and jawline wearing the General’s outfit with long, golden hair with a scar that ran from his eyebrow down to the upper corner of his right lip. Wilbur couldn’t help but laugh at the audacity. Was that John? He couldn’t tell.

“ _Colonel Cross? Can you hear me?”_ The man asked, his voice distorted and muffled from behind the pane of glass. Instead of a response, Wilbur continued to scour the room, searching for his one beloved. “ _It’s been 13 years, sir, we need to get you looked over by a medic.”_ Again, not even did he acknowledge his existence that time. John sighed, running a hand through his hair, pressing his hands against the glass. “ _Dad!”_

That caught Wilbur’s attention. He looked up at him, tilting his head, his smirk staying firm on his face. “Where is she, Johnny?”

“Where’s who?! Who do you need?!” John felt his heart light up with something, optimism probably, looking at the man, who’s knuckles were almost green at how hard he was gripping the blade. Then the though settled in. “H-Holloway? Uh, look, Xander’s gone to go get her and-“

“ _Gone is my Lady in White, at dawn, I roused to the sight.”_ He began to sing, his voice a slow tempo. He moved his jaw, a sickening crack sounding through the room, watching as his son grimaced at the noise.

“Dad, I just told you, Zee’s gone to go get her-“

“ _And I, her Long-Tethered Knight found no answer!”_

“I know you’ve been in the portal for a long time, tied back huh! 13 years! What a mess!” John laughed, trying to play it off as a joke, though he could no longer hear the softness in his dad’s voice. And now he was…singing…like a musical…he needed to stay alert. “And I’m telling you, Xander’s gone to go get her!”

_“I tore my blade from the wall-“_

“You need to stay in the portal room!” John shouted down to him, watching him closely. He tore the blade from the wall, an empty gap now in its place as if it were nothing. John backed away from the glass, watching as his father headed to the stairs, climbing up to the door, pounding his fist rhythmically on the glass.

 _“Ran through each chamber and hall-“_ With a final pound, he got the door unlocked, pushing it open, the blade still in his hand.

John now noticed red vines around the handle that had started glowing. He would never admit his fear, but seeing a weapon drawn out from The Black and White starting to glow…it didn’t take an idiot to realise that that wasn’t god.

“ _But naught for search-“_

“Dad go back down to the portal room, please-“ John’s eyes were practically begging, continuing to back away from the glass, though his dad was faster than him. He always had been. He felt an arm wrap around him, pulling him close against his chest in what usually was a hug when-

_“Or for squall-“_

John let out a cry as he felt his skin pierce apart, blood trickling down his back. He felt the grinding of the metal against his neck as the blade went deeper and deeper into the back of his neck. John’s mouth hung open in a permanent gasp, his eyes filling with unwilling tears. He could taste he metal, something golden, before it began to mix with his saliva. He swallowed it once, but spluttered at the taste, coughing up blood on his own dad’s shirt. The black blade twisted, John screeching out in pain. Now, the dagger was no longer vertical, but horizontal, blood dripping from his mouth and the gaping wound in his neck.

John tried to stay strong, tried to resist the pain, but it happened again about 15 cm down from where he’d last been stabbed. He could feel his hair beginning to stick to his neck as once again, the black blade forced it’s way through skin, muscle, and that time, bone. The scream he uttered was traumatising. Instinctively, he gripped his dad’s jacket. He couldn’t remember if he’d taken it into the portal with him, but it was glued to his body. But, clinging on to his father would never be enough to save him. As the door clicked open, John’s blinking became slower. As Wilbur ripped the blade from his back, he fell, his head laying to the side, eyes clouded over with tears that splashed on to watercolour tiles.

 _“Won no answer, heard…”_ Wilbur turned, licking the blood off of the cold blade, looking at the three at the door. The one in front looked from Wilbur and straight to the floor, tears gathering in his eyes. He began to shout John’s name, sliding over the ground to get to him. That man was the least of his worries. He could see a second man, with black, greased hair and soft grey eyes wearing a leather jacket and a grey T-Shirt with black jeans. Who knew, he could be a PEIP agent himself! But the woman in front truly took the cake. Frizzed red hair, a red lip, purple eyeshadow with winged eyeliner making her entire face rounder and paler. She wore a denim jacket with oversized jeans, a black shirt dotted with purple triangles and yellow stars underneath. Her sneakers were beat down, and her eyes were wide, but not with surprise. With determination.

“Holloway, who _is_ he?” Her accomplice asked.

Holloway shook her head, looking at the figure of her ex. “Duke…you know I told you about my ex? And how, though he hadn’t come back for 13 years there was still that possibility? Yeah? We gotta run.”

“Why?”

“Because Nightmare Time is now.” She grabbed the hand of her boyfriend and pulled him out of the door, never minding Xander on the floor. She immediately picked up her pace to a run, hitting an alarm as she did so, hearing Wilbur’s voice following her through the halls.

 _“What man’s so jealous, yet, to steal my Lady away! My maid-“_ He paused, catching up to the others, grabbing the jacketed sleeve of his enemy, Douglas Keane. “ _With hair like jet…”_

Duke made the mistake of letting Holloway slip away from him. He laughed nervously, looking at Wilbur, and with his free hand, waved. “Uh, hi. Wilbur Cross, right? I’m Duke Keane, nice to meet you-“

 _“And skin like pearl in ocean spray…”_ Wilbur smirked, pushing Duke away from him, walking back over to Holloway, his voice softening before he could even spit the lyrics out. _“I beg you, hear my call, good lady. Athwart this earth, I follow good lady!”_ He, similarly to how he did with his now very much deceased son, wrapped his arm around her waist, twirling her against his stomach, holding her gently. He never wanted to harm her. He loved her. They were in love, and nothing could change that. _“Your deathless scent is all that keeps me from my torment, so if you hear my plea, won’t you answer? Lady, won’t you answer me?”_

 _“_ She has a name!” Duke shouted at him, pulling himself off the floor, brushing the dust off his jeans, and Wilbur laughed.

“Holly-Aloisa.”

Duke blinked, watching as his girlfriend’s shoulders stiffened. “ _That’s_ your name?!”

“Duke, not now.” Holloway elbowed Wilbur’s gut, allowing herself to become free from his grasp. She looked at him directly, her head shaking slowly. “You died.”

“Ah, come on now, darlin’! Y’ain’t from The Black and White yourself! A witch! That’s all you are! When are you gonna go home and see your friendy-wends!”

“They got you. You are _not_ the man I fell in love with.” There was a roughness to her voice which caused Wilbur to tilt his head back and cackle firmly.

Wilbur pointed behind him, the musical intermission in his head ending. He pointed behind him with his thumb, his smirk returning. _“So sure, t’was some other knight, I took my fellows to fight!”_ Walking backwards, keeping his eyes on Holloway, he gripped Duke and held him, pressing the black blade to his neck, staring Holloway down. _“I ran through each man aright! But no answer!”_

“Uh, Holloway, um, a little help?” Duke laughed anxiously, keeping as still as he could, watching as the answer formed in his girlfriend’s mind.

 _“I drove through cave, creek and ditch, to slay each beast and each bitch! But bathed in blood, black as pitch! I’d no answer heard!”_ Wilbur growled, pressing the blade firmer against the skin, watching as it cracked satisfyingly. Wilbur dug his face into Duke’s hair invasively, laughing as he did so. _“If not a man or beast, then where’s my Lady been drawn? I’ve hunted west to east to find no sign where she has gone, O-!”_ He didn’t hesitate then. He pulled the blade away before slashing the skin underneath his chin. He watched as Duke gripped at the wound, trying to prevent the bleeding, but the damage had already been done.

As Holloway gasped out her boyfriend’s…well, _ex-boyfriend’s_ name, running towards him, Wilbur caught her in his arms, pushing her to the floor and away from him. _“I beg you, hear my call!”_ Once again, his voice picked up pace, the gravel returning through his spit. _“Athwart this earth, I follow, Good Lady! Your deathless scent is all that keeps me from my torment! So, if you hear my pleas, won’t you answer? Lady, won’t you answer me!”_ He paused, pointing the bloodied blade directly at Holloway, watching as she scrambled back to her feet. “You’re from The Black and White, _Good Lady!_ I followed you to The Black and White because I loved you and _oh, fuck, Good Lady!”_ He let the music consume him again, punctuating his sentence with a laugh as Holloway looked at him, her eyes teary. He couldn’t help but compare the look to that of the one his son had donned minutes ago.

“Why are you here, Wilbur?! What do you want?!”

“I’ll tell ya what I want, darlin’!” He snarled, shaking the blade so that the blood dripped off of it quicker. “ _Now, to a witch of Hell, to cast a seeing spell!”_ He took a step closer… _”There the answer,”_ and another step… _“There the answer…”_ And another step closer until he was inches from her. _“There the answer comes!”_ He laughed, looking back at Duke’s dead body on the floor. _“No need for search or sword…”_ A clatter represented how easily the black blade fell from his palm, no longer an attachment. He laughed, looking back to his ex. _“No further earth explored!”_ He gasped, pressing a hand to chest dramatically. _“Good Lady just got bored…”_

“You’ve been gone for 13 years, Wilbur! We knew you weren’t coming back!” A tear fell down Holloway’s face, her shoulders shaking gently. “You _told_ me that you wanted me to mentor John and now he’s dead! Your SON!”

 _“Now life is naught but a sieve, to drain what joy’s left to give.”_ He shrugged, walking over to her, cupping her chin in his hand, looking into her eyes. _“How I preferred life to live...”_ In a split second, his hand had been on top of her head while the other stayed under a chin, and with a sickening twist and a confirming crunch, Miss Holloway lay dead on the floor with a snapped neck metres away from her boyfriend. “With no answer…” Wilbur growled as he walked away, picking up the black blade on his way out as the voices repeated once more in his head.

On his way around the precinct, he scoffed. “It’s _her and her mister_ for the rest of their lives! Cause even after the body goes, the image survives!” He kicked the water fountain, it tipping over and spilling on the floor. He ignored it. _“To mark the abstract connection of two subjects’ duet, and in this microsecond, it’s as close as we get!_ It’s as close as we get, oh fuck…” He laughed again, proceeding throughout the precinct, circling, killing those who dared to defy him.

 _“To taste devotion in an infinite sense, to make a love bound by no golden band, no-oh-oh. There are no conditions, and believe no pretence. For a union, we can’t understand.”_ He walked back into the portal room after plunging the black blade in between Xander’s shoulder blades, and when he didn’t die immediately, he took John’s gun and shot him in the back of the head, watching as he collapsed on top of the corpse of his husband. He walked back in front of the portal and sighed, looking at the red washed walls. “ _Hold still…focus, hold…oh…”_

With a final laugh, and a precinct full of the dead, he walked back into the portal, taking home in where he conquered his reign – The Starlight Theatre.

**Author's Note:**

> fun times i guess, anyways:
> 
> everyone who's read If You Want, If You Dare or We Survived The Crisis be like during this:
> 
> Me: an iridescent yellow suit  
> You: an iRIDESCENT YELLOW SUIT-
> 
> i just accieentally ate sudocrem my days already been bad enough i didn tneed to eat my acne treatment for fucks saKE


End file.
